logo
Cosatu urges action to protect jobs and save the Mail & Guardian

Cosatu urges action to protect jobs and save the Mail & Guardian

Labour federation Cosatu, like many progressive South Africans, is concerned by the plight of workers at the Mail & Guardian — and this legendary newspaper itself.
Labour federation Cosatu, like many progressive South Africans, is concerned by the plight of workers at the
Mail & Guardian
— and this legendary newspaper itself.
Recent and quite depressing media reports suggest that this pillar of South Africa's media landscape is experiencing severe financial difficulties and the staff have been served with retrenchment notices.
This is a matter that Cosatu is not only distressed by, but cannot afford to remain silent about.
While media houses around the world, including South Africa, have struggled with the transition from print to electronic media, and the proliferation of free and often fake news sites, South Africa can ill afford to see the M&G close its doors, let alone retrench staff.
Cosatu cannot agree to a single worker losing their job and threaten to plunge their families into despair and poverty. More so when we are battling a 43.1% unemployment rate and when appreciating that the media landscape will struggle to absorb so many workers.
The M&G is not just any newspaper. During the darkest days of apartheid, the then Weekly Mail and its journalists shone a spotlight on the apartheid regime, giving hope to a nation under siege and helping to mobilise the international community in support of the liberation struggle.
Post-1994, the M&G has continued to seek a niche space for itself as a progressive investigative newspaper.
We are convinced that the M&G can and must be saved, more so given its relatively small staff footprint of just over 25.
It is urgent that the owner of this proud newspaper, Hoosain Karjieker, works with staff, Cosatu and other stakeholders, to find a solution — one that does not involve gutting the newspaper.
We appreciate that since Cosatu made its voice heard on this issue, Mr Karjieker has reached out and has availed himself to meet the federation to discuss this situation further, and we hope to help find solutions that will save the paper and its employees' jobs.
All too often, including in the media sector, workers have seen employers, often out of their depth, simply mismanage companies and newspapers into the ground, including failing to honour the various financial commitments, and then dump the bill upon workers.
Alternatives to retrenchment
The Labour Relations Act requires all employers to meaningfully engage workers and unions on alternatives to retrenchments.
These engagements must be in good faith and allow workers and their unions to table alternatives that must be considered by the employer.
The employer must share their full financial reports with workers and their unions during these engagements. This is a legal requirement.
The reported rush to retrench workers and gut the M&G is a worrying sign that the employer views the LRA as little more than a tick box exercise and is determined to retrench workers at all costs.
The employer needs to appreciate that their employees are the greatest asset and, without them, a turnaround plan will fail.
Gutting the M&G newsroom will reduce it to little more than a university newsletter, not the institution it has been. It would very likely be a death sentence for this company.
Engagements with staff need to be meaningful. Not only must the full state of the paper's finances, debts and other financial obligations be revealed but practical solutions and alternatives to retrenchments must be tabled, costed, considered and given a fair chance to succeed.
These need to look at where costs can be saved without retrenching staff; where alternative revenue sources can be found, including moving fully digital; a ramped-up advertising drive; and partnerships with local and international media.
While a turnaround plan is put in place, the Unemployment Insurance Fund should be approached through the Commission for Conciliation, Mediation and Arbitration to activate its Temporary Employee Relief Scheme, which will help cover the salaries of the staff over six months. But this relief is conditional upon the employer committing to not retrenching staff.
Potential new owners with deeper financial pockets should be sought. Pride or embarrassment should not be a hindrance while the livelihoods of so many staff are in danger of being lost.
The Weekly Mail published its first paper on 14 June 1985, so the M&G would be celebrating its 40th anniversary this week. This is a tragedy given its heroic role in the struggle against apartheid and for our constitutional democracy, that instead it has been plunged into a life and death fight for survival.
Cosatu believes that all steps must be put in place to save the paper and its employees' jobs. A turnaround plan should be activated and support sought from the UIF. If these cannot be done, then a new owner must be found for this bastion of progressive media freedom.
The federation will be providing and ramping up its full support to the workers at the M&G during this difficult period, including the options of finding a new owner, to save these workers' jobs and this proud paper.
Solly Phetoe is the general secretary of Cosatu.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Digital Shadows: Unveiling the crisis of forced labour in the tech age
Digital Shadows: Unveiling the crisis of forced labour in the tech age

Mail & Guardian

time8 hours ago

  • Mail & Guardian

Digital Shadows: Unveiling the crisis of forced labour in the tech age

(Graphic: John McCann/M&G) The digital age is characterised by a fragile balance between promise and peril. The peril is often imagined through the lens of dystopian fiction — tales of mass surveillance, Forced labour is prohibited by the International Labour Organisation (ILO) Forced Labour Convention 29 of 1930. According to the ILO, forced labour refers to any work performed under coercion, threat or without free and informed consent. At a national level, South Africa's Constitution provides a clear prohibition — section 13 states that 'no one may be subjected to slavery, servitude or forced labour'. This is supported by domestic legislation such as section 48 of the Basic Conditions of Employment Act, which gives further effect to this right. Despite these protections, enforcement mechanisms have not kept pace with the complexities of the developments introduced by digital platforms and transnational digital labour markets. According to an ILO report, Digital forced labour does not resemble the traditional imagery of chained factory workers. It is more insidious, woven into the underpaid and often invisible work of data labellers, content moderators, AI trainers and even cryptocurrency miners. These people, often based in low-income regions, are employed under precarious arrangements with little oversight. They might work 12-hour shifts for a few dollars a day, with no formal contract or labour protection. In South Africa, as in other parts of the continent, this form of labour is particularly concerning given the high rate of youth unemployment, reliance on informal work and rapid growth of gig and platform-based jobs. The global nature of technology platforms compounds the problem. Many of these companies operate across borders, placing them beyond the jurisdiction of local labour laws and regulatory oversight. A 2019 Forbes article by Adi Gaskell described this vividly: 'It's helped to create a world in which the haves are increasingly well off, while the have-nots make do with insecure and poorly paid work.' For African workers doing digital piecework, there is often no path to upward mobility — only the repetition of tasks for marginal pay under opaque systems. Despite the promise of digital innovation, human labour remains fundamental. Many digital platforms still rely on people to label training data, moderate harmful content, provide feedback and enrich machine learning systems with contextual knowledge. Human involvement remains essential not because machines are incapable, but because people are cheaper, more adaptable and more vulnerable. They can be paid little, monitored extensively and replaced easily — a dynamic that meets the ILO's criteria for forced labour, especially when individuals are driven by poverty and lack of alternatives. One emerging technology that demands closer scrutiny is blockchain. Often praised for transparency, traceability and decentralisation, blockchain also poses a hidden risk when misused. In certain digital labour platforms, blockchain-based contracts — or 'smart contracts' — are used to automate payment and task allocation. While this can reduce overhead costs, it can also entrench exploitation. Because smart contracts are irreversible and automatically enforced, a worker can be locked into a task with no ability to renegotiate terms, challenge unfair compensation or withdraw. In some cases, blockchain-based platforms are designed to obscure employer identities, making accountability nearly impossible. Even worse, digital wallets tied to such platforms can require workers to complete tasks before unlocking payment, no matter how unreasonable the demands. This can create a new form of coercion — one that is enforced not by human bosses but by immutable code. In unregulated environments, this form of 'algorithmic servitude' is indistinguishable from digital forced labour. So what is to be done? Regulatory responses must evolve. The ILO has recommended a comprehensive approach centred on prevention, protection, remedies, enforcement and planning. Strategies include awareness campaigns, victim support services, stronger legal frameworks and improved data collection. Critically, the organisation found that ending forced labour would not only raise wages and protect workers but would also reduce unfair competitive advantages for unethical businesses. The economic and social case for action is therefore strong. But digital forced labour presents new legal challenges. A 2024 article by Thomson Reuters examined this in the US context. It found that although trade laws such as the Tariff Act effectively block goods produced by forced labour, they are poorly equipped to address intangible inputs like datasets or AI-generated models trained through exploitative means. The article argues that new legal instruments are required to extend labour protections to the digital sphere. Africa faces its own specific issues. In a 2020 analysis, Tshilidzi Marwala noted that although countries like Kenya provide the labour backbone for many global digital operations, they receive little of the value or technological infrastructure. 'While Africa plays a significant role by way of providing cheap labour,' he wrote, 'the continent reaps little from the industry.' This is a warning that also applies to South Africa. Without intentional investment in regulatory frameworks and infrastructure, the country risks being a perpetual digital labour reserve — supplying skills but not sharing in the dividends of innovation. What is needed now is a continental vision that safeguards labour rights while advancing Africa's technological sovereignty. South Africa's progressive legal foundation offers a strong starting point. But more must be done to update national frameworks for the platform economy. This includes introducing legal definitions of digital work, mandatory due diligence for companies sourcing digital labour and binding transparency requirements for AI developers. In parallel, public policy must invest in digital upskilling, ethical AI education and mechanisms to track the provenance of data used in machine learning. Moreover, regional cooperation is essential. The African Union's Continental Strategy for AI is a promising step but it requires a sharper focus on labour rights, ethical sourcing and enforcement. Institutions such as the Southern African Development Community can also play a role in harmonising policies across borders, creating a collective front against exploitative digital practices. As consumers of digital products, we seldom reflect on the hidden labour behind our tools — the countless workers whose keystrokes and decisions support our seamless experiences online. But therein lies the real danger — a system that exploits precisely because it remains invisible. South Africa, and the continent more broadly, must not only expose this system but lead the way in dismantling it — replacing shadows with accountability and peril with promise. Letlhokwa Mpedi is the vice-chancellor and principal of the University of Johannesburg and a labour law scholar. Tshilidzi Marwala is the rector of the United Nations University, UN under-secretary general, and a thought leader on AI and governance. The authors' latest book on this subject is Artificial Intelligence and the Law (Palgrave Macmillan, 2024).

Gavin Evans on fathers, faith and fearless reporting in South Africa
Gavin Evans on fathers, faith and fearless reporting in South Africa

Mail & Guardian

time9 hours ago

  • Mail & Guardian

Gavin Evans on fathers, faith and fearless reporting in South Africa

Journalist and writer Gavin Evans When I meet Gavin Evans on a Friday morning, it's to talk about his memoir Son of a Preacher Man, which he's visiting South Africa to promote. But I'm more interested in hearing what it was like to report for the Mail & Guardian in the dying days of apartheid. Evans was one of the first reporters hired by the paper. It was the mid-Eighties, and Evans had just started his career in Gqeberha, then known as Port Elizabeth. 'My journalism career started at the Eastern Province Herald in '84,' he recalls. 'There was a company then called South African Associated Newspapers. They had a three-month programme and all the new journalists went through it. After that, you started at places like the Eastern Province Herald or the Post. I was on the Herald.' Evans' journey would soon take him to the Rand Daily Mail, Business Day and eventually the pioneering Weekly Mail, which would later become the Mail & Guardian. 'I knew Anton Harber because he'd also been at the Rand Daily Mail,' Evans explains. 'Irwin Manoim was there too, and Clive Cope was around. They were the three who set it up. I went along to the opening meeting and came up with story ideas. Initially, I was freelancing while working for the SAN Transvaal News Bureau. But then Anton offered me a job.' For Evans, joining the Weekly Mail was more than just a career move, it was a leap into a newsroom that operated with a shared spirit of purpose. Gavin Evans' father Bruce's consecration in 1975 'It was a wonderful working environment,' he says. 'Everyone got paid the same, from editors to everyone else. I don't know about the cleaning staff, but for all the journalists, it was the same salary. It was a brave decision but it worked for a while.' At the Weekly Mail, Evans carved out a distinctive voice. 'Initially, I was doing politics,' he says, 'but I knew a lot about boxing. So, I said, 'You guys need a boxing correspondent!' I wrote about boxing in a different way. The other boxing correspondents were white guys who didn't know any of the black boxers. I did. I had access nobody else had.' His work soon drew the attention of the Sunday Times, which asked him to be their boxing correspondent too. Evans also became the mysterious voice behind the Weekly Mail's satirical gossip column. 'No one was told except for a few people in the know who the writer behind it was,' he explains. 'We were poking fun at government people, and writing it in a tone of naivety, but of course it was all about exposing them. John Perlman did it before me, and then I was the writer of the column for probably the longest stretch — at least two years.' The era was dangerous for journalists willing to speak truth to power. Evans recalls the paper's investigative spirit, which led to the exposure of the so-called 'third force' — the apartheid state's clandestine efforts to foment violence. 'We broke the story of the Civil Cooperation Bureau (CCB), the state's assassination group,' he says. 'Military intelligence was funding Inkatha to hack people to death on the trains. We broke that story too.' Evans' investigations and his political activity with the ANC and SACP made him a target. In the late Eighties, he says, the CCB hired 'Peaches' Gordon, a killer from a notorious Cape Town gang, to assassinate him. 'His instructions were to stab me to death and steal my watch and wallet to make it look like a straight robbery,' Evans says evenly. 'But I was in hiding at the time. The ANC had said to me, 'You must go into hiding.' I stayed in 18 different houses in six months — all in Johannesburg. I'd move and move and move. He followed me to five houses but each time I'd already left weeks before.' Even the killer's ruse of offering sensitive documents, something that had once yielded a groundbreaking story for Evans, couldn't lure him out. 'He phoned me and said, 'I'm a comrade. I've got documents for you about the state. Can you meet me?' But there was something about him that didn't ring true. So I didn't turn up. It turned out to be my life he was after.' By the end of the Eighties, the Weekly Mail, along with international partners, had exposed the third force's operations. In the aftermath, the government scrambled to contain the fallout. A family portrait of Joan, Bruce, Michael and Gavin from 1965 'They set up a tame judge, Justice Harms, and the Harms Commission to investigate,' Evans says. 'They admitted all the failed assassinations, including mine. Peaches Gordon was arrested and gave a full statement, including in my case. Then they released him, but he was later killed by the CCB with a bullet to the back of his head.' Evans had a complicated relationship with his father, who was a man of peace, but also of contradictions. In Son of a Preacher Man, he grapples with these paradoxes — his father's fervent faith and quiet complicity, his support for his son's political defiance and his own hand in shaping a world where violence was a constant threat. 'I never even looked at my earlier book when I wrote this one,' Evans tells me. 'I wanted it to be fresh.' Son of a Preacher Man delves far deeper than his memoir, Dancing Shoes is Dead, which mingled his love for boxing with glimpses of his life. Here, the focus is squarely on the fracture between father and son, a rift that began one night when Evans was 14 and his father beat him with his fists — a rift that only healed decades later, after an exchange of letters. Listening to Evans recount his early years as a journalist in South Africa, it's clear that the violence of the state — detentions, beatings, tyre-slashings — took a toll on him. 'I thought none of this affected me,' he says. 'But it did. I was having dreams of being buried alive or escaping. I became more aggressive.' These traumas burrowed deep into his psyche, manifesting in ways he didn't recognise until much later. Yet even in the darkness, there were moments of almost cinematic defiance. Evans recalls the day security police barged into his house, threatening him over military service. 'They said, 'Either you cooperate, or the military police will arrest you at work.' I told them, 'Get the fuck out of my house!'' The next day, his motorbike's tyres were slashed. But in a surprising twist, his father quietly intervened. Using his weight as a bishop, he wrote to the authorities, arguing that his son deserved a delay in conscription. Evans only discovered this act of paternal protection after his father's death, when he stumbled upon the letters in a box of papers. 'It made me cry,' he says softly. 'We'd always had a bit of distance, but I never told him I was proud of him too.' That fragile reconciliation came just before his father's final decline. Diagnosed with motor neurone disease, he had less than a year to live. Evans speaks of those last months with a tenderness that cuts through the decades of conflict: 'We had our reckoning, and then it was gone.' If there's a thread running through Evans' life, it's the question of what it means to stand firm when the world seems determined to push you down. In South Africa, that meant working for the M&G during its tumultuous early years — reporting from a newsroom in Braamfontein, trading stories and dodging censorship, feeling invincible in his twenties, even as he was detained and assaulted by the state. Gavin Evans' last amateur fight in 1982 — a knock-out win. 'You think it's not affecting you,' he says. 'But it does. It seeps in.' After moving to England in the early Nineties, Evans continued to write and teach. Son of a Preacher Man is his ninth non-fiction book, and today he lectures first-year and postgraduate journalism students at Birkbeck, University of London. Evans, now 65, speaks of his family. 'I've got two daughters, Tessa and Caitlyn, both of whom appear in the book. Towards the end, there's a chapter about Tessa and her husband Ciaran and their son, Ferdi. 'The final chapter is all about Ferdi. You know, the book's about fathers and sons, and now it's also about grandfathers and grandsons, because I spend a lot of time with Ferdi. I adore him. He's three and three-quarters, and if you ask him how old he is, that's what he'll tell you — three and three-quarters.' These personal milestones deepened his understanding of the legacy of fatherhood, both in the book and in life. Reflecting on his days as a young journalist in South Africa and his complex relationship with his father, Evans sees his own journey as a testament to resilience and the redemptive power of storytelling. As he guides the next generation of journalists, he remains mindful of the lessons of the past and the bright promise of those still to come.

How to help your parents in their golden years
How to help your parents in their golden years

Mail & Guardian

time10 hours ago

  • Mail & Guardian

How to help your parents in their golden years

Most South Africans are not planning for retirement, with only 6% of the country's population on track to retire comfortably. They brought you into this world. And now, as the roles begin to shift, you're the one stepping up. For many South Africans in their 40s and 50s — especially Gen X — the pressure is mounting. You're raising children, planning for your retirement and, increasingly, supporting aging parents who are approaching retirement with little to no financial cushion. It's a tough balancing act. And without a plan, it's one that could leave you just as vulnerable. Most South Africans are not planning for retirement, with Economic hardship and high immediate financial obligations are major barriers, leading many to prioritise short-term financial survival over long-term planning. Adult children are expected to help, often without formal conversations or structures in place, potentially leading to financial strain across generations. You may want to help your parents — and so you should — but doing so without a strategy can compromise your own long-term security. It is possible to support them with confidence and clear boundaries, without becoming a financial martyr. This step is essential: talk about money. Sit down with your parents and discuss their income, expenses, debt and medical cover. If they don't have a formal budget, you may want to help them build one. It's not about control; it's about laying the cards on the table. Once you know what they're working with, you'll have a clearer idea of where the gaps are and whether, and how, you could possibly help fill them. Healthcare is one of the biggest financial risks in retirement. Is your parents' medical aid cover active and adequate? A lapse in cover can trigger late-joiner penalties and limited benefits, which could leave the family footing the bill. You might also want to consider looking at frail care, which might eventually be necessary. It can cost upwards of R40,000 a month, If your parents' income falls short, it might be time to look at their assets, including property, investments, or annuities. Could downsizing free up cash flow? Are there underused investments or savings that could be restructured? Equity release, structured drawdowns, or liquidating non-essentials are all options, but they require good advice and, ideally, a professional financial plan. Because it doesn't help to offload assets, only to fall into the same trap later down the line. As these conversations progress, boundaries remain important. Can you contribute financially, without jeopardising your own savings goals? What about your retirement savings, annuity and tax-free savings account (TFSA) contributions? This isn't about being cold or calculative. It's about ensuring you don't end up repeating the same cycle as your parents, or taking on new debt to help someone else. If you have siblings, you might want to loop them in early. It helps to share the load — whether that's handling paperwork, managing medical claims, or contributing financially. Everyone brings something different to the table. Shared living can work well, but it's worth thinking through the emotional and practical side of things. It's not just about splitting costs — the mental load matters too. A life stage strategy Boomers (61-79): You might want to focus on preserving capital and clearing any unsecured debt. A TFSA could help generate tax-free income in retirement. It's also a good time to review your will, medical aid, and beneficiary details. Gen X (45-60): This could be the moment to ramp up retirement contributions and work on eliminating short-term debt. A diversified portfolio still makes sense, but you may want to start de-risking gradually. Estate planning might also be worth prioritising if you haven't already. Millennials (25-44): Now's a great time to build a strong financial foundation. Using a TFSA and starting a retirement annuity can help set you up for the long term. An emergency fund is key — and it's okay to get that in place before taking on financial responsibilities for others. Supporting your parents while planning your own future is no small task. There's a lot to juggle — from tax and retirement planning to healthcare costs and estate matters — and getting expert advice can make a big difference. It's not about giving up control. It's about having someone help you navigate the complexity and avoid emotionally driven decisions that could come at a cost. Helping your parents in retirement is a real act of love — but it's also one that needs boundaries and a clear head. So, as you look ahead to what the next few years might bring, ask yourself: how prepared do you really feel? Kananelo Matela is a junior investment consultant at 10X Investments. This article provides general information. It is not intended as nor does it constitute financial, tax, legal, investment or other advice.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store